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Authors: Lynn Raye Harris

Tags: #Hostile Operations Team#1

BOOK: Hot Pursuit
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Evie trembled with fury. A cold shot of fear
for Sarah traveled into the depths of her stomach and wouldn’t go
away. Where was her sister?

She pressed a hand to her forehead. She
didn’t want to do this, she really didn’t. Not right now. But what
choice did she have? If she hung up on him, which she was sorely
tempted to do, and he wasn’t kidding—then what? “Where and
when?”

“How about at your mother’s house? You can
come out on the porch and talk to me. I’ll see you in half an
hour.”

“Wait—” He hung up and she dropped the phone
into her lap.
Shit
. It was bad enough that he knew where her
mother lived—that he was even close enough to be there in half an
hour—but what was all that crap about lives in jeopardy? She had
nothing left to steal. Nothing to give him. He’d drained her and he
knew it. Even if his ties to organized crime were real—and the
police had no evidence they were—what did it have to do with
her?

“You want to tell me what that was
about?”

She met Matt’s gaze. He was angry, but in
control. Such fine control. Control she’d almost broken earlier.
She shivered just thinking about it.

“I told you about my ex-partner. That was
him.” She shook her head. Her hand curled into a fist in her lap.
“Why now?”

“What did he want?”

“He…He’s in town. He wants to meet me. He
says—” She swallowed hard.

“Says what, Evie?”

“He said he needs my help or something bad
could happen.”

Matt’s voice was firm, commanding. “Tell me
everything he said.”

She hesitated for a moment—but after
everything that had happened tonight, she needed someone to share
this with. And she could think of no better person than Matt. She
told him everything David had said and how much money he’d drained
her of before he’d fled—but she left out the part about organized
crime. She simply couldn’t voice it without feeling sick. Besides,
there’d been no evidence, only speculation.

Matt’s jaw was tight. “Anyone who stole over
a hundred grand from you, skipped town, then calls you and wants to
talk doesn’t have a friendly session of chitchat in mind. He must
think you have more to give him.”

Evie nervously tapped her fingers against the
armrest. “I don’t see where I have a choice except to meet him.
Mama and Sarah could be there now and I damn sure don’t want them
letting David into the house. I have to get home before he
arrives.”

Matt popped the Beemer into gear. “Then I’m
meeting this guy with you. If he’s desperate, he’ll come anyway.
And if he’s trying to get you alone for something, he’ll skip out
and try again. At the least, we’ll know his intentions by how he
behaves. We’ll hit the convenience store and gas station on the
way, in case Sarah’s there.”

Guilt reared its ugly head again. “This isn’t
your problem, Matt. You came home for a wedding, not to bail me out
of trouble all night.”

He flashed her a meaningful look. “Not up for
negotiation. I’m going.”

* * *

Something didn’t feel right. Matt had learned
over the course of three years as a covert operator to trust his
gut. The one time he’d ignored it, the one time he’d convinced
himself he had to be wrong, the shit had hit the fan in a
spectacular way. Hell, he’d made mistakes tonight that pissed him
off, but they were somehow smaller and less important than the
feeling rolling through him right now.

Ignore this one
, his instincts told
him,
and you’ll be on permanent leave. And so will the woman
sitting beside you
.

Sarah hadn’t been seen in town. She hadn’t
stopped at the convenience store to call her mother, hadn’t popped
up at Charlie’s Diner on the bayou. Nothing else was open this
late, other than the quick mart and gas station about a mile out of
town. They didn’t have time to hit that one yet, but they would as
soon as they got this meeting over with.

Still, even if she’d been there, she wasn’t
anymore. Of that he was certain. Sarah could have gone to a
friend’s house, but it wasn’t likely, since her best friend was in
a field with most of the kids they hung out with.

Chief Laurent had no doubt sent a cruiser out
there by now, and the teens were dumping their beer and scattering
like cockroaches—the ones who passed the sobriety tests, that is.
He remembered doing the same thing at their age, and he’d been
lucky it hadn’t killed him.

He’d gotten falling-down drunk more than once
back then, too. And he’d certainly puked up his guts enough times
after a night of partying. Moderation had not been a word in his
vocabulary.

It’s also why he didn’t drink anymore.

He quit for good when he was recruited for
HOT. He needed a clear head and a fit body, and alcohol did him no
favors in either department. Some of the other guys could handle it
just fine—drink that one beer and stop—but not him. No, if he
cracked open a beer, he’d want the whole six-pack.

“That’s odd.” Evie was sitting forward,
peering out the window as he turned into the driveway. She’d been
tense since her ex-partner had called, but this was a whole new
level of anxiety.

“What’s odd?”

“The exterior lights are out.”

“How many are there?”

“The porch light and two floods. And Mama’s
usually obsessive about turning them on when it gets dark. No way
would they all be out, even if one blew.”

The feeling in his gut went from a simmer to
a boil. A flash of red reflectors at the rear of the house
indicated a car sitting back there.

“Is that your mama’s car?”

“Yes.” The word sounded pinched, as if she
had trouble getting it out.

And he could guess why. She didn’t have to
remind him she’d been calling her mother regularly for the past
fifteen minutes. Or that no one had answered the phone.

Matt braked and put the car into park. “I
need you to stay here.” He reached for the knife he’d clipped to
his belt before they’d left Reynier’s Retreat. Once unarmed tonight
was enough.

“No way, not this time. We did it your way
the last time and look what happened.”

He crushed his exasperation, carefully
blanked his mind to everything except the job ahead. She was right,
but he didn’t have time to argue with her. “I’ll be back in ten and
you can come out then.”

“No.” She grasped his arm and held it hard.
“This is my family, Matt. I’m not sitting here waiting for you to
return. It didn’t do a damn bit of good before, and I won’t do it
again.”

Her eyes glittered in the dash lights and her
jaw perched at a stubborn angle. He wanted to shake her. And kiss
her.

Yeah, arguing with this woman was useless. He
got the feeling she’d go
through
him if he didn’t let her go
with him. The next best thing he could do was make sure she stayed
safe.

“When you exit the car, wait for me to come
around to your side. We go together.”

Her hand dropped away, grasping the door
handle. “Fine.”

Matt reached across her, popped open the
glove compartment, and grabbed the small flashlight inside. When he
got to her side of the car, she was waiting. He hadn’t been sure
she would. He tucked her behind him and listened to the night
sounds. Crickets and cicadas sang loud and strong, and an owl
hooted in the trees. A good sign, though not foolproof.

He felt his way through the darkness without
use of the flashlight—he’d shoved it into his waistband just in
case he needed it—keeping an ear cocked for any noise that didn’t
jibe with the sounds of a summer night.

Evie followed close behind, grasping his
T-shirt for guidance. He led her around the back of the house,
flicked on the flashlight, and swept it over the area. Her mother’s
little pickup looked normal enough. No open doors, no broken
glass.

He turned and put his mouth against Evie’s
ear, inhaling the clean scent of her hair as he spoke. “Wait here
for a second while I check the back door.”

She nodded and he left her standing beside
the truck while he worked his way up the wooden stairs. The door
was locked. He considered picking the lock and slipping inside, but
discarded the idea for two reasons. One, Evie would follow. Two,
though the situation seemed odd, there was every chance her mother
was inside asleep. With his luck, if he startled her, he’d either
end up dead from a shotgun blast or she’d have a heart attack and
keel over.

He wasn’t taking the chance. He returned to
Evie and made for the other side of the house. When he came to the
main power meter, he stopped and lifted the flap.

Sonofabitch.

The circuit breakers were off. Not a good
sign at all. If he flipped them on, he’d lose any chance he had for
surprise. On the other hand, whoever had turned the power off would
have seen the headlights when Matt turned into the drive. Assuming
the guy was still here.

And Matt couldn’t keep slinking around
looking for the perpetrator when he had Evie tagging along.

He had no other choice. He flipped the
breaker switch and the front of the house lit up like someone
ignited a bonfire. There were no other noises, no footsteps or
slamming doors or, thank God, gunfire.

Matt glanced at Evie. She worried her lower
lip with her teeth. “Somebody shut it off, didn’t they?”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

“Is it safe to go in?”

“I don’t know.” That was the truth. “I need
to go alone.”

She studied him, her brow creasing. “I know.
Do you want me to stay here, or is there a better place?”

He admired her more in that moment than he
ever had. She was worried, maybe even scared, but when push came to
shove, she accepted that he would be better off operating alone.
Smart woman.

“Stay here and I’ll come for you when it’s
clear.” He’d rather she was in the car, but he’d have to take her
back around the house to get her there. Better to do what needed to
be done and hope for the best.

Still, he wasn’t quite at ease with the
situation. Norma Breaux’s car was here and the lights were out. To
his mind, that didn’t bode well. If she’d been robbed, if she’d
been hurt—well, he’d rather find that out alone.

He stayed close to the side of the house,
moving as silently as he could until he reached the front. He
studied the area for a long moment and then took the steps up to
the porch when he felt it was safe.

Once he reached the top, he jerked to a stop.
There was a body near the front door, but it wasn’t Norma’s. Matt
padded over and hunkered down beside the lifeless form. Male, about
thirty, slightly overweight. Blond hair, goatee, pasty skin. Blue
sweatshirt, jeans.

A pool of blood congealed beneath the body,
which lay facedown, head turned to the left. A carving knife lay
off to the side, the eight-inch blade bloody. The handle appeared
clean, though.

If this were an op, Matt would go through the
guy’s pockets, find some identification. But here, he couldn’t
touch anything. He was taking a risk entering the house, but he had
to do it. He had to know if Evie’s mother and sister were in there,
and if they were alive. Yeah, he’d fuck up the crime scene a little
bit by going in, but he couldn’t go back out there and tell Evie
there was a dead guy—probably her ex-partner—and give her no
information about her family.

Colonel Mendez would have Matt’s skin if he
learned about this. Best to make sure he didn’t hear about it then.
Though how in the hell that was happening, Matt wasn’t certain.
Mendez had an uncanny sense of trouble on the brew. So uncanny that
Matt almost expected his phone to start buzzing in his pocket at
any second.

Matt gave the body a wide berth as he worked
his way over to the front door. He stuck his hand into the tail of
his T-shirt to turn the knob and the door swung open on squeaky
hinges.

A lamp was on in the living room,
illuminating yellow walls, wood floors, and an entertainment center
against the far wall. The television was off. Two chairs flanked
the cabinet and a couch faced the television, its back to the door.
Matt glanced over the room as he headed for the rear of the
house.

He stopped short when he saw the body
sprawled in front of the couch.

Norma Breaux was on her stomach, one hand to
her side, the other bent beneath her. Matt crossed the distance in
two steps and knelt beside her. Her pulse was strong. He let out a
breath, surprised at how his heart kicked up at the sight of Evie’s
mother lying so still.

This kind of thing didn’t usually get to him.
It was all part of the business. But this was home, goddammit. This
kind of violence wasn’t supposed to happen here. Yeah, good old
boys got drunk and had fights—or shot off weapons and took
hostages, apparently—but murder? It wasn’t right.

Matt didn’t move her while he did a quick
check for any injuries. When he was satisfied she hadn’t been shot
or stabbed, he snatched up the phone on the end table and placed a
call to 911. In the minutes left to him before the emergency
vehicles would arrive, he cased the rest of the small house.

There was no sign of Sarah, and no evidence
of a struggle. If the girl had been here, she’d either left
willingly before any of this happened, or she’d been marched out at
gunpoint. But he’d bet his next paycheck Sarah hadn’t been here.
Call it instinct or whatever, but he couldn’t shake the
feeling.

He slipped out the front door and ground to a
halt. Evie stood on the porch, her eyes wide as saucers as she
stared at the body.

“It’s David. H…He grew a goatee, but—” She
covered her mouth and turned away.

Matt came around and led her back down the
steps. “I thought you were going to wait.”

Her wild gaze landed on his face. “You took
so long I thought something happened. I was coming to help.”

Matt closed his eyes. Saints preserve him
from women who thought he couldn’t take care of himself.

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